This Is SO Cool!

Even though it has nothing to do with writing.

The other day, my wife mentioned that our grocery store loyalty card, which includes "fuel perks," had accumulated a $1.30 per gallon discount which was due to expire at the end of the month. What she didn't mention (or I didn't hear) was that there was more than the $1.30 built up, and that only that amount was expiring.

So I stopped to fill the tank today, scanned the card, and was surprised to see that we had a total of $3.30 per gallon in discounts waiting. I wish the pump would have allowed me to redeem only the expiring amount, but it didn't. Perhaps if I had gone in, I could have worked that out. But I simply forged ahead.

Since gas was $3.24 a gallon...well, you can do the math.

My only regret is that I didn't think to postpone the transaction, and arrange to meet my wife tomorrow so that we both could have filled up (even though it's against the rules).

Life is good!

More Muse Musings

A while back, I made reference to the Poetry Muse, and how she sometimes pays me a visit and sets up shop in my head for like a week. Her sister...hmm...I'm sure which Muse helps with writing thriller novels. It's not Thalia, the muse of comedy, since Nightmares definitely is not a comedy, though it has its light-hearted moments. And it's not Melpomene, since the book is not a tragedy is the classical sense. Maybe I'll call her "Novelle." So Novelle, it would appear, is equally fickle and persistent.

A few weeks ago, I was touching up Nightmares. The kids were asleep, and I wanted to get down a few ideas that I had been working through in my head during the day. So I typed, typed, typed for about 20 or so minutes. When I had finished, I did a word count: 60,575, which represented just a little less than 300 new words.

I said to myself, "Time for bed," closed the laptop lid, and started to walk out of the office.

Then an idea came to me, and I didn't want to lose it. So I sat back down, opened it up, and started typing again. Another 100 words.

"OK, now I'm ready for bed." But as I started to leave the room, the same thing happened. So I sat down once more. 120 additional words.

Then I really went to bed.

And I wonder why I'm so tired all the time...

Man Up

It was a beautiful sunny 60 degrees in Chagrin Falls today. So what did I do? I spent the afternoon on my roof, rebuilding the chimney crown. Your chimney, of course, is bricks. You might not have stopped to think about it (I really had not) but something has to cap it those bricks. That something is a chimney crown. It looks like this:

I should have thought to take up the camera and get a picture of ours, but, oh well.

There has been water coming in the twin's room when it rains. Since it usually happens when there is a lot of wind accompanying the rain, I suspect that cracks along the side are the real culprit. But the mortar of the crown itself had a lot of cracks, so it couldn't hurt to replace that as well. 

Anyway, so I climbed the ladder around noon with a hammer and chisel, and started pounding away. It took about an hour and a half to get it all. To be honest, I thought that was pretty good, since mortar can sometimes be persistent. Then I hauled up a gallon jug of water and a 60-pound bag of mortar mix. By the way, for those of you who haven't seen my house, it's a fair distance. I measured the drop from peak to ground, today, at 21 feet. 

(The drop in the back is even worse.)

Then it was mix the mortar, slap it down, and form a nice pyramid. At first, I could use the trowel. But then it was gloved hands and finally, bare hands with water on them to smooth it out.

Of course I also shoved some fresh stuff into the larger gaps between the bricks and the mortar. And on a related note, I took the opportunity to hammer down the roofing nails which had popped up, and then smothered them with goo.

How did I do? I suppose we'll find out when it next rains, which could be tonight.

Sure, it's not Hemingway driving an ambulance during World War I. But it was still pretty butch, if you ask me.

.

I Find This Amusing

Have you ever wondered whether search engines try to steer you to one (unpaid) site over another? (Because of course they try to steer you to a paid advertiser's site first). Then try this little experiment. Go to Yahoo, and type in "Maps."

Notice which is the first returned, and which is second.









 
 





 
 I think that's funny

What To Write, What To Write?

Since Castle wasn't on this week, what am I going to talk about? How about my latest project, Nightmares. It's a YA thriller, about a dream-transfer experiment which goes awry, and turns people into monsters. My hero, Tommy, must face off against a demon that was created from one of his dreams...literally his own worst nightmare, come to life.  

I think it's a page-turner, but I suppose the readers will be the ultimate judges.

I completed the first draft about a week and a half ago. 65,000 words. Since then, I've been revising and tidying up. It's now up to 68,000, and I expect to finish the second pass this weekend, at the latest. Two friends--both avid fiction junkies--have agreed to look at it. If anyone else wants to see it, please post a comment and let me know.

A little while back, I posted the prologue to my blog. (I looked it up. September 29...wow!) Continuing, below is chapter 1.

Enjoy!

     The sun was in my eyes. But it didn't matter. I could still see her in the distance, just as I had remembered her. She was wearing the same floral print dress. She cradled a dozen red roses in her arms. I had sent them. Somehow. The wind was strong, and whipped her hair savagely across her face, obscuring her porcelain features. Everything, except for her mouth.

     I wanted to distrust my eyes. This just couldn't be real. It was as though nothing had changed. It was like...it was like time had simply stopped and stood idly by, in deference to her. It had been...I can't remember how long it had been since I had last seen her. She was so beautiful. All I wanted was to hold her. But the rolling and waving meadow separating us seemed endless. Miles of heather, clover, and goldenrod. And I have hay fever.

     We were frozen on opposite sides of an immense gulf. But I was determined to let nothing keep us apart this time. She eyed me lovingly, longingly. I felt a few beads of perspiration gather on my forehead. My palms were sweaty. She licked her lips.

      And then we started running towards each other. In slow-motion, just like in the movies. Our arms outstretched, we raced across the field, trying to eliminate the distance. It was taking forever. The sun remained big and bright, and birds were chirping. More movie imagery. 

     Soon I was close, almost close enough to smell her. We ceased running and then walked a few deliberate paces. We stopped, and just stood, staring, not twenty feet apart. The wind now was blowing directly at her face, forcing her to squint slightly, but drawing her hair back in a magnificent amber flow. The wind also playfully lifted that beautiful sun dress, occasionally treating me to a glimpse of her silk thigh. Then it was quiet. Silent. Dead, eerie calm.

      She held up something shiny, something silvery. It was a key. She looked at it, kissed it, and then bent down to place it beneath a garden gnome that was at her feet. She straightened back up and blew me a kiss that, by the time it arrived at my cheek, had swelled into a small, localized gale. 

      I touched my cheek where the wind had caressed it, and looked at her. She looked down. My gaze followed hers. There were now four gnomes. Suddenly, the gnomes grew and grew and grew, until they became four armed men, soldiers, most likely Chinese or perhaps North Korean. I’ve never actually seen a Chinese or North Korean soldier up close, though we did study the Korean War in history last year. Also, I used to watch the show M*A*S*H a lot. And they looked kind of like the extras, who never really said anything, but just looked menacing.

      The sky changed color and the wind immediately died.

      Surprised. 

      Horrified. 

      Petrified.

      These words don't do justice to the gamut of synonyms for scared that flashed through me at that moment. I was paralyzed. Frozen with fear. And suddenly everything was very loud. My heartbeat echoed in my ears and reverberated through the air. I felt sure that even the soldiers could feel its rhythm. But they just stared, their gaze fixed upon my chest.

     And still she stood there. Strangely, they seemed oblivious to her. Perhaps she would be spared. Or maybe she was next. I wanted to call out to her. But the sounds weren't there. Why wasn't she running? Was her fear so great that it rendered the body null? Was she hoping for an opportunity to save me? Or did she want to see the end? What possible reason could she have?

     She smiled. My heartbeat grew in intensity and volume.

     Upon the command of one, they leveled their rifles and took aim. Although I don't speak Chinese or Korean, I assume the leader was counting.

     One.

     The birds were singing again. The leader glanced back at her. Her gaze shifted from his face to mine. He looked at me. He was no longer a man, exactly. His face resembled that of a gargoyle, with a beak, and horns. His eyes then began to glow.

     Two.

     She parted her lips slightly and licked them, and then casually drew the hair back behind her left ear. A golden wedding ring glittered in the sun. I felt a tear in my eye.

     The leader raised his arm quickly, and then snapped it down again, only now it seemed to move frame by frame. She screamed.

     Three.

     Smoke and fire belched from the three rifle barrels, as the retort echoed among the hills. I actually saw the bullets speeding towards my heart.

     I put up my hands. "Go away," I said.

     And they did. The bullets, the soldiers, the gargoyle, and the girl. Into thin air.

Funny Foto #8

Or, "How To Annoy Innocent People."

I saw this sign on a gas pump near my house

 

I'm tempted to press it, and when he or she answers I'll just start crying and sharing my problems.

Castle: "Heartbreak Hotel"

I was a little disappointed with this week's episode of "Castle." While it was nice for "the boys" to have some time together, a large part of the show's energy comes from Castle's and Beckett's interaction, their romantic tension. That's why "Moonlighting" worked. And this week, Castle-Beckett was minimal. Also, the city of New York itself serves as one of the show's major characters. They almost always have some scenes outside. The inside of a casino in New Jersey just isn't as interesting.

And ...

The casino owner--the dead guy's partner--did a few things that were completely outside the realm of logic. First, he kicked Castle, Ryan, and Sanchez out of the casino, which could lead one to think that they were getting too close to the truth. But, he wasn't guilty, and he knew he wasn't guilty. So why would he stand in the way of the people who might actually be able to find his money? Then, he had Castle dragged into his office and he threatened him with a baseball bat. He said something to the effect of, "I can't beat up cops, but you..." Let's see, you escorted two NYPD officers (in Elvis garb) off the premises, and had two of your thugs carry Castle through multiple camera-monitored hallways to your office. So later, if Castle were to wind up in an ER with a fractured skull, what were you planning to say, "I have no idea how it happened. What, he claims I hit him? My word against his." I don't think so.

And in my weekly comment on "looks," I loved Alexis' "help me" look at the very end. I'm 99% certain that she was in a cell phone or cell phone provider commercial a few years back, where the mother calls her daughter her "BBF." The daughter gives the same look. I tried to Google and YouTube it, but had no success. Still, I'm pretty certain it was her.

Election Day Funny

A sign, in my neighborhood:

Who says we in Chagrin Falls don't have a sense of humor?

Actually, it's kind of ironic since in conversation--as well as in my infosec book--I compare Chagrin Falls to Mayberry.

Anyway, like they used to say in old Chicago: "Vote early, and vote often."

Double Bummer

Well, the month is not shaping up as I had hoped. I got two rejection letters this week. Main Street Rag said "no" to Udopia, and Allegory Magazine turned down my short story "Tarantulas On Leashes." 

The former offered no feedback, which they are not obligated to do. But the folks at Allegory said: "First exchange of dialogue with Sybil may have been a way of showing social ineptness but it didn’t add much to the story." That was the purpose of that bit of dialog, so I think I want to keep it. But I'll take their comment into consideration. Perhaps I can make it more relevant. They also said, "Some adverbs could’ve been eliminated or replaced with descriptive phrases." I definitely will heed that advice.

On the bright side, I just finished Nightmares. 65,000 words, which is perfect for YA fiction. It's the first run-through, of course, so I have some editing to do. If I had to guess, I'd say I'll probably add 5,000 words. Not that I'm trying; it's just what I think. We'll see how close I come. But I believe I'll be able to wrap it up by December.

Of course, to put it in perspective, a very good friend of mine just lost her Dad. So in the grand scheme of things, I really can't complain about my week.

Write on!

Castle: "Cops & Robbers"

Hmmmm. A mixed bag this week. First the good...

Overall, I liked the plot. It started out as a bank robbery, then Ryan and Sanchez found the murder. Still, the focus remained on the bank. Then at the end, the four principals worked at lightning speed to resolve it.

There were a few good "looks." Beckett's confusion when Castle called at the beginning to say, "Tell me you need me." And their loving glances when she rescued him. (But Castle should have smacked his mom for butting in. "She was so going to kiss me, mother!")

I knew "Sal" was in on it. I could just tell.

I also enjoyed his "count" at the end. He claims to have saved her life nine times, to her eight reciprocal saves. I wonder if that is accurate, based on the past episodes. (Though it's not like I'm going to ever watch them and find out.) And the line about pulling her from the bathtub was precious.

Now the writer in me takes over...

1. When Beckett went into the bank as an EMT, she should have / would have used an accent. (BTW, why do none of the main characters have New York accents??) Trapper Jack would have recognized her voice.

2. Castle speculated that the robbers needed time, in case they couldn't find the right box. Safe deposit box keys generally have the box number stamped on them. At least mine does. And I think it's a reasonable assumption that most would. Who memorizes his or her safe deposit box number? 

3. Why did the robbers put on masks when the robbery started? They all walked into the bank with them off. So their faces were captured by the bank's DVRs. Though I did like the TV doctor code names.

4. Castle knows Morse Code? Really? Beckett knows Morse Code? Really?

5. Now the big one. Sal didn't need to stage bank robbery. If he had the key, he could have gotten in. Again, based on personal experience, the folks at my bank never ask me to show an ID. I just sign a card. Of course, they know me personally, as I work for the same bank. Nonetheless, unless there were special instructions to only allow "two old people" access to that box, Sal could have shown them the key, asked for them to open the door, and gotten the contents. And if there had been specific instructions about restricting access, the bank manager would have remembered that box 120 was special.

6. Now the other big one. 

• Why did Agnes and her daughter go to all this trouble--the safe deposit box drop--which would have required the daughter to drive in from Ithaca to make the drop?
• If they were exchanging letters via a drop system, why would her address appear on any of the correspondence? It wouldn't have to. Agnes wouldn't even need to know it. So the letters wouldn't have helped Sal, at least not to the degree of pinpointing her.
• Why not stick with the U.S. Mail? It's reasonably secure and, as I referenced in the last point, it's not like they would refuse to deliver the letters TO Agnes if the daughter eliminated the return address.
• If you're going to set up this elaborate "drop system," why not just use the priest? The daughter mails letters to the church, and on a weekly basis Agnes can visit to read and reply.
• For that matter, unless Agnes is completely technophobic, there is this thing now called "email." One's email account is hard to crack into. And even if Sal managed to steal Agnes' password, from what I hear, it's pretty hard to figure out where someone lives from a Hotmail or GMail address.

Bad Pun Of The Day

Since you can never get enough mal mots...

If someone really likes pogo dancing, would you say he suffers from obsessive-convulsive disorder?

Thank you, I'll be here all week.